It's not like Freddie's never had a pet before. He's even had a cat, though Molly had mostly been his parents and she'd died when Freddie was twelve. She'd been a good cat even with all the dead mice she dragged into the kitchen, but Freddie's not felt the impulse to replace her, really.

Before arriving here, he honestly couldn't have afforded one.

The cat in the basket continues staring up at him with wide, green eyes before letting out a quiet, plaintive little meow and peeking her head out further. "I don't have anything," he says then, stupidly as he backs up further into his own flat. "She from that place where you work? The cafe?"